A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy
by SmilingPoliteli
Summary: Valerie is young, beautiful & heart broken, with nothing but the thrill of one night stands to get her through her days. Until one night, she meets a man that has the potential to save her self destructive life. But when strange people show up to give her worrying advice, her previous life, a life she has no recollection of, comes back to haunt her. Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie PATD


The hot air that night was just like any other late summer evening on the Las Vegas strip. It was stifling, and enveloped its surrounding in an almost erotic way. The hot bodies, constantly brushing against each other, with beads of sweat dripping down a chiselled jaw, or an ample and nearly exposed breast. Complete strangers meeting for the first time with few to no words being spoken before engaging in affairs, trysts, or meaningless one night flings. These were the nights that made me feel alive. These were the only nights where alive.

Everything was normal about that night: I was intoxicated, standing in the middle of the dance floor waiting to be found by someone to take me home for the night for a temporary fix, the same as every week. I had been doing the same thing for almost half a year, trying somehow, in anyway possible, to ignore the constant ache in my chest. Being left to myself was not an option, and if that meant giving my body to a different stranger every week, I had to accept it. It was not the sex that I needed, or that I wanted it. It was the escape that it brought, and finding a decent fuck was just a bonus. But this night in particular, the best fuck was the one that would change my life.

It all started with a look from across the bar, but isn't how it always starts? I could almost feel him looking at me before I turned to survey any potential partners and met his intense gaze. The electricity between us was palpable from the second we locked eyes, and neither one of us dared to move as his chocolate brown eyes bore into my own. I momentarily forgot about my surroundings as the seconds stretched into a minute, and people shouted drink orders across me to the bartender.

It wasn't until a heavily intoxicated my very handsome man knocked my drink out of my hand that I looked away

I couldn't help but think that he wasn't my type at all.

And it wouldn't be fair to say that he was cute; he was beautiful, as much as one man could be. He was of average height, maybe 5'10 with dark hair and slim build, but it was the energy he exuded that I found myself attracted to as we continued to watch eachother across the room. I wasn't one to make the first move, so if we wanted me, he would have to come get me, but by 12 o'clock, I was frustrated and ready to leave. Although there had been numerous men interested in me, I had stupidly waited for him to come to me, and he didn't. He had disappeared at some point, and I didn't see him for the rest of the night. I was too frustrated to even bother finding someone else, and I came to decide that it was a good thing because I had to go to school the next morning, I wasn't supposed to be at the club because I was underage, but that was the only way to get what I needed. 

I danced my way to the front exit, skillfully avoiding most of the attempted interceptions from greasy men, but my body was spun around before I could make it to the door. I opened my mouth to shoot my mouth off at whoever had to nerve to touch me but I paused because I was staring into the beautiful chocolate eyes.

"Where do you think you're going mon ange?" he smiled, displaying his perfect teeth and melting my frustration away in a mere second.

"Excuse me?" I pursed my rouged lips, prepared to play hard to get no matter how much I wanted it.

His arms pulled me closer to him as he smiled seductively. "Stay with me," he whispered, pressing his mouth to my ear. I had to try hard to resist the urge to press myself against him just to feel some sort of relief.

"You'll have to buy me a drink if you want me to stay," I replied.

His eyes twinkled as he laughed. "I'll give you anything you want, beautiful." It was just a line, but I sensed a note of sincerity behind them. He was already different than the other men I had slept with to keep myself occupied, I should have paid more attention. He was clean cut and innocent looking, looking more like a a guy that a girl could have a serious relationship rather than a one night stand. I really should have ran the other way. Instead, I lead him to the bar, and after three more drinks, and an hour later, I was ready to go home with him, whoever he was.

He hadn't given me his name, and I most certainly did not give him my own. That was one of my conditions of one night stands for any guy. Yes, I had rules. Considering the amount of times I had slept in strangers beds in the past few months, there had to be. I liked to keep as much anonymity as I could, but how much more anonymous could one be in Las Vegas? It wasn't called Sin City for just any old reason.

Normally, as normal as normal was for me, men never fussed over such trivial details such as name and age. Such subjective things did not matter to the men who only wanted a good fuck, and that, I could give them. But that particular night, with that particular man, because I wouldn't give my name he wouldn't give me his and he did not give up trying to find out. Perhaps right then I should have walked away. I didn't; stupid choice.

"Well what am I going to call you then?" His boyish voice rang over the loud music. He had leaned forward, tilting his head towards me, poised for my answer. My eyes rested on his lips, making me want to lean forward and taste them. I realized that no matter how much it bugged me that he wanted my name, I wanted even more so go home with him, so I tried quikcly to think of a suitable name. I had watched Bonnie and Clyde earlier in the day, so I smirked, leaned in towards him so there's was but few inches between us and said in the sexiest tone I could, "I'll be Bonnie, you can be Clyde." I ran a hand down his chest and smiled seductively.

"Clyde" grinned at me. "I have a feeling that Bonnie isn't your real name. Someone as beautiful as you wouldn't have such a dreary name. I also have a feeling that you're not going to tell me. I can live with that for now." His smile did not match the intensity behind his eyes, but I was too drunk to think anything more of it. "What would you like to do now, Bonnie?" he whispered into my ear.

"Well Clyde, I've got nowhere else to be so if you want to take me home, I'd be just fine with that." My lips brushed his and he almost stumbled back, blinking and looking very excited. "Sugar, I ain't gonna bite." I leaned even closer, so that my lips brushed his ear and whispered, "unless you want me to." I felt him shiver a little, and I smiled to myself; I knew I had won. Twenty minutes later I stood infront of him in my bra and panties, which his nervous hands tried to help me take off. I pushed him back onto his bed and fell ontop of him, too drunk to keep standing unaided. I straddled his hips and unclasped my bra, freeing them from the restrictive lace, and leaned down to take his lips; they still tasted like lime and tequila. My hands worked at his belt, eagerly trying to free his hard erection from the tight dark jeans he was wearing. Before I knew what had happened, I was on my back underneath him. He threw his pants to the floor and grinned down at me while he tugged at my panties.

"These have to go," he said his earlier confidence which had disappeared now began to come back as he slid them down my legs.

I giggled as the room began to spin and I felt lighter than air. The alcohol fully started to take over my body. Well, that, and the need to feel him inside me. I tugged his boxers off but he couldnt take them off fast enough. Finally, after fumbling on both of our parts, he threw them next to his pants and he hovered over my naked, and extremely horny body. He wasted no time in pressing his hardened cock against my awaiting slit but he only guided it up and down, making my fingers curls around the bedsheets underneath me.

"Please just fuck me," I whispered hoarsely, arching my back the slightest. He laughed to himself and pressed his finger against the wet skin while his eyes watched as I began to writhe underneath him. I could barely contain myself as he pushed into me ever so slowly; I almost went out of my mind with the anticipation of what was coming. My inner walls clenched tightly to his large member, waiting for his full length, but he didn't go in all the way; he slowly pulled himself out and then pushed himself back in, continuing to tease me. I was grabbing the covers around me, begging him to just give me what I wanted when he silenced me by covering my nipple with his warm mouth, and then moments later thrust his full length inside of me, making me cry out in pure pleasure.

I may have been drunk, and although the whole thing became almost a blur to me, I was very aware of how good the sex was. I had never experienced such an orgasm in such a short amount of time. Minutes after I had climaxed, my body was still tingling from the amazing fuck.

I pretended to fall asleep next to him to avoid any conversation afterwards. I had gotten what I came for after all, had I not? As my back was faced to him, he began to run his fingers up and down softly. I had to clench my jaw and hold myself so that I wouldn't move. His almost caring touch made me uncomfortable but I feared if he knew I was awake, I would be subjected to small talk I so hated.

"Mon ange," he whispered, pressing his face against my neck and kissing. "Mon bel ange," he whispered once more, and then turned over away from me.

After he had fallen asleep, which took maybe 15 minutes, I picked my exhausted body out of bed and crossed the bedroom, dressing myself and digging in my purse for my lipstick when my phone rang; it was Lucas calling to know where I was. I lied and said I was already home; he did not condone my sleeping around nor did he approve of my going to clubs underage all the time. But how I decided to put myself back together was none of his business. So he didn't need know that I had left my signature mark on 'Clydes' pillow when I crept out of his apartment; a piece of stationary stained with the shape of my lips in red lipstick. He didn't need to know that the guy was my fifth one nighter in a month. And he most certainly did not need to know that "Clyde" had given me the best sex I had ever experienced, especially considering the last person I had slept with was him.


End file.
